


Just So Tired

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Angst, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Pain, Protective Dean Winchester, Tension, Tired Dean Winchester, Tired Sam Winchester, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Sometimes Sam is just tired.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Just So Tired

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a thought that popped into my head when I was watching a Multifandom on Youtube and I got the idea to show Sam just exhausted after hunt and needing a couple minutes to breathe and rest. Dean sees things differently and doesn’t want his little brother to suffer anymore than he already has, and in his mind that means patching him up right away. This is what happens when their ideas of what Sam needs differ so greatly.

Sam limped forward, left leg dragging uselessly behind him with the heel of his boot scraping against the ground, smearing caked in dirt through the motel room. Ordinarily Sam would attempt to kick off his shoes at the door so not to risk subjecting the poor room to whatever shit Sam had walked through on the earlier hunt. Unfortunately all logic and straightforward thinking had left Sam’s brain after their latest hunt, which left both Winchesters weak and battered more than they would ever care to admit. 

The door slammed behind Sam and he didn’t even have the energy to look back. Instead he drug himself over to the corner of the room and pressed his aching back against the cool wall. A long gash was still steadily leaking blood—Sam knew he was going to be berated by his brother the following day for getting blood on his previous seats of the Impala but that was a conversation for another time. 

“Uh-uh,” Dean snapped, pointer finger gesturing madly in Sam’s general direction since he couldn’t steady his bleeding hand to point directly at Sam. 

Sam struggled not to roll his eyes. “We’ll be long gone before the maid comes to clean. They won’t remember two half dead looking brothers that look like they murdered someone,” he huffed with his head already dipped dangerously forward while black dots pranced around his vision, consuming it into vast nothingness. 

Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother and grabbed Sam’s shoulders, shaking him fitfully. Sam’s head collided harshly against the wall and had Sam gasping for breath as he righted himself, hazel eyes blazing in hatred as he bore down at Dean.

“What the hell was that for,” Sam complained while snaking up his hand to rub at the base of his skull where he was sure a welt was going to sprout in a couple minutes. 

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Can’t have you sleeping on me yet until I patch ya up. I think you may even have a concussion from that hit you took to that tree.” Dean leaned over and began to part the hair towards the front of Sam’s scalp only for Sam to pull away roughly and cause Dean’s balance to waver.

Sam curled his lip in distain at the obvious paternal attention Dean was giving him. “I don’t care. Just let me sit here for a while.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Dean replied seriously, all joking from earlier aside as he picked up Sam’s heavy forearm to examine the long scratch marks that dug so far into his flesh that Dean swore that he could see his brother’s bone. A tremor worked its way down Dean’s spine, settling in his legs and making them go numb. It was one thing to fight the good fight and want to send all these sons of bitches whether they belonged, but none of it could be to the cost of Sam’s life as far as Dean was concreted. 

Sam didn’t have enough strength to pull his arm away from his father. He could only grimace and shudder the more that Dean prodded gently at the skin around the wound. Blood still trickled out and dripped steadily from his elbow. Skin hung like crimson pieces of jerky that were just waiting to be reattached or pulled completely off. Sam couldn’t even tell which option he would prefer at this point. 

Dean set Sam’s arm back on his lap and leaned forward to examine Sam’s leg. His calf had been caught by the teeth of the creature and had left deep puncture marks. Each time Dean would place a finger anywhere near the punctures Sam would pull it back with a growl, not unlike the savage supernatural creature that they had just hunted. That was when Dean could tell that Sam was serious about wanting to be left alone. 

“Fine, fine, princess.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his swollen lip, swiping blood into his mouth from a small cut in the process. He had tasted his own salty blood numerous times before and had watched it gush, drip, and stream from his body more times than he could count. Each new wound was like adding a movie to a collection in Dean’s mind. He didn’t care how many physical injuries he racked up as long as he could continue to hunt. Battered and bruised came with the territory and Dean accepted it better than most hunters. 

Sensing that his brother was inwardly fuming, Sam rolled his neck from one tight shoulder to the next. “I’m not saying you have to let me die. I just want a second to rest.”

“Didn’t you get a second while I was driving while you were passed out in the passenger seat?”

Although Sam knew that Dean hadn’t meant what he said with any malice nor bitterness, that was the exact way Sam took it. He ducked his head back so that he didn’t have to meet his brother’s wandering eyes. “I didn’t realize your shoulder was dislocated or I would’ve offered to drive.” 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead creased in a deep frown. “That’s not what I’m saying. I just want to know where this sudden DNR is coming from.” 

“Dean, DNR means do not resuscitate. That’s not what me not wanting you to patch me up right away means.”

“Then what does it mean because I’m a loss here, Sam? You can’t just keep leaking out blood like the damn stuck pig here or you’re eventually going to run out and then what am I going to do?” Dean let out a deep scoff. “That’ll be the most depressing funeral ever to let all the other hunters know you died not because of your wounds, but because you were too stubborn to let me at least wash your wounds and patch you up.” 

It was Sam’s turn to face Dean with a look of defiance brimming in his gaze. “For the last time I am not refusing. I just need a break. Give me five fucking minutes!” 

Bristling in surprise, Dean drew back, eyebrows raised and eyes round. It wasn’t often that Sam laid into him like that, especially not over something so trivial as whether or not Sam was going to clean himself up or not. They hadn’t argued like this since Sam’s detox from the demon blood. 

Dean’s chest heaved with each breath while the tension continued to hover in the room like dark storm clouds. “Fine, fine, mind if I sit here at least? At least this way I’ll make sure that you’re not going to pass out from blood loss or anything.”

Sam gave a dismissive half shrug since lifting his shoulders proved too painful. 

Dean slumped back beside Sam so that their shoulders almost touched. They gazed across the empty motel room with both their duffles open on their respective beds with clothes practically falling out. Rock salt littered the ground while Dean’s favorite hunting knife peeked out from under his pillow. Empty takeout containers from the night before sat on the nightstand as well as an impressive collection of cheap beer bottles. 

“This isn’t what you think it is, Dean,” Sam broke in cut the tension.

Dean didn’t look over when he spoke. “Then what is it? Because I’d really like to know.”

Sam ducked his bead back in embarrassment, lips growing dry. “I’m just so tired and I need five minutes. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be fine.” 

“Alright, five minutes and then that’s it. Then it’s shower and patched up and resting for the next hunt. Do you understand me?”

Sam almost laughed out loud at the sheer forcefulness of Dean’s words. He knew that his brother was dead serious and it made Sam feel like a kid before, listening to Dean’s orders way better than he ever did his father’s. 

“I don’t think that you get it, Dean,” Sam breathed with one leg pulled up toward him and knee nearly peaking through the patched denim jeans that had more holes in them now than Swiss cheese.

Dean pressed his head against the wall, willing the conversation to disappear if he just closed his eyes and wished it. Unfortunately he woke up to find Sam still staring at him intently with those intelligent and stubborn hazel eyes that broke Dean faster than anything else ever could. 

“Then what did you mean?”

“I’m tired of everything. I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of the pain, I’m tired of living this life. I’m just too tired, Dean.”

Dread pooled in Dean’s stomach thanks to the words that Sam had just said. It wasn’t exactly unusual to hear this kind of talk from either of them, but this time it rubbed Dean the wrong way. They had been through a lot the last few years and it appeared that Sam wasn’t as well adjusted as he tried to project to those around him.

Dean nodded quickly, hoping to put all this behind them. “Then we will rest right here until you’re ready to move. Just give me the signal and I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Sam swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He hadn’t expected Dean to be receptive and he wasn’t. Sam didn’t fault his brother, though. Sam had kept up with the codependent streak just as much as Dean had and now it was becoming a real issue for both of them. 

“I want to sit here,” Sam muttered triumphantly as though he had made a grand decision after days of debate.

Dean gave a defiant nod even as his lip allowed more blood to dribble down his chin. “Then I’m staying here too until you’re ready to move.” 

Sam didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, praying for a brighter tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn’t exactly my typical fic but I did enjoy writing this and may try to write others like this in the future. I hope you all enjoy and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
